... and then my life changed!

Alrighty .... I'm lagging a little behind with writing a new entry. Life has been busy. So to tide you over ... an oldie but a goodie! I know it is long. But it is near and dear to my heart and it explains very well how I got to where I am today.

March 2006

As this time of volunteering and then working at the ALDF rescue shelter in Sanford is winding down and nearing the end I am sitting here reflecting back and wanted to bring my thoughts to "paper".

It all started a little over a year ago when I called my friend (the wrestler) Amy to ask her for tickets for...... no..... wait a minute ..... I think I actually have to go back even further - I think you'll see why.
So.... it actually started when I was about 13 years old. Yes, even back then I knew I wanted to work with animals. I had seen a TV documentary about the famous animal behaviorist Konrad Lorenz and his study on wild geese. It so impressed me, that I read his book(s) and immediately knew that's what I wanted to do when I grew up. Well..... that was 30 years ago and unless you were a famous behaviorist, like Lorenz, there wasn't really anything you "could do" with that profession. "I want to be a veterinarian, then" ... I said. My Mom in her infinite wisdom was very supportive. "If that's really what you want to do. But you need to keep in mind that you may have to "hurt" the animals sometimes. You have to give them injections. And sometimes you may have to end their suffering by euthanizing them. Can you really do that?" - Ooops... out the window that went! As much as I know it is necessary, I think I probably still couldn't do it even today. But I was determined. At least I wanted to study Biology, somehow with animals and then we would see. I took my Latin classes which were a prerequisite to even make it into a college Biology class. But when the time came I had missed the required GPA by 0.1 point and I was so fed up with school anyway, I didn't want to go for four years or even longer. And as there still wasn't really any professional prospect except maybe research for animal behaviorists - I went after a "solid" profession, "something to fall back on".

Fast forward a "few years"; I finally fulfilled my dream of moving to America. Working with animals is still somewhat forgotten, but Sylvia and I now have 2 cats. Well, actually they live with Sylvia now. The trailer park that was my first home in the US had a colony of stray cats, actually it was more a feral colony than anything else, but I didn't know that at the time. They seemed to adopt me. I started feeding them; one Mom even brought her kittens to me when she gave birth, because she knew they would be safe. At the time I earned close to minimum wage, and the extra food was all I could afford. I didn't have the means to take anybody to the vet or adopt any of them. Neither did I know about TNR (trap/neuter/return) or how to get help with it. I wasn't as internet savvy yet, as I am now, so didn't know how to find the resources.

At about the same time I moved out of the trailer park I decided to go on vacation to this special place that Sylvia had "found". She received a flier in the mail about an amazing animal Sanctuary "Best Friends" which is in my favorite area in the world (the Southwest). I had kept this flier for reference when she first sent it to me a couple of years before with the remarks "wow - I want to work here." So I packed my bags and headed to Utah to volunteer on my vacation. What can I say - I think it was a life changing experience. Or maybe it just jolted back into my heart what was still left there from before. I absolutely loved it. Of course, the gorgeous scenery might have helped.

Around that same time I became interested in pro-wrestling. What does pro-wrestling have to do with the animals you ask? Bear with me…….. I discovered that some of the wrestlers (and one female) were from North Carolina and flew out of our airport every weekend. I began looking out for them and eventually befriended them. Right when I started becoming really good friends with them, the girl in the group broke her neck and was on the injured list for a long time. So I never really got close to her, but I continued to send her well wishes through my friend Matt. She finished writing her book, I read it and there was an amazing connection. Turns out, the lady was just as crazy about animals as I am. For her birthday (or maybe it was Christmas) I got her the Best Friends book and she was really appreciative. When she started flying again she treated me like an old friend she hadn’t seen for a while (although we had never really gotten close before her injury) and we instantly had a level to bond outside of wrestling. She proceeded to tell me about her vision to found an animal charity and asked me to help her come up with a name. Although I can’t take any credit for the name A.D.O.R.E (Amy Dumas Operation Rescue & Education) I worked on it really hard for a while there. When her first fundraiser took place I tried to get off work, but couldn’t. That did not discourage her and next time she gave me plenty of advance notice and gave me a “personal invitation”. She said “I really want you to come, even if you just hang out for an hour or so.” Well, I did one better – I signed up to help out at the event. Amy insisted that’s not why she told me and I should just come have a good time, but I wanted to help out. This is the first time I met my current “boss” Leighann. When the ADORE website was planned Amy asked me to write some of the content, when it launched I became one of the moderators on her message board.

Still don’t know how this all pieces together? Well, here it comes: One night late 2004 I called Miss Amy to ask her for tickets to an upcoming wrestling show. She said no problem and then “can you hear them in the background”. Could I hear them? – heck yes, the barking was deafening. “Where are you at?” And she proceeded to tell me, that a puppy mill had been busted and they had seized some of the dogs and she was at a makeshift shelter, where the dogs had just been brought to, in Sanford. That’s how it started….. I asked how I can help and I started volunteering there from then on – twice a week (on my days off) for 8 hours a day. The following April ALDF won custody for the rest of the dogs (about 300) of them and they were moved to a now bigger makeshift shelter that had been rounded up the months before. It was April 13th, 2005 – I remember, because it is my sister’s birthday!

In the beginning I didn’t participate in naming the dogs. I didn’t want names, I didn’t want to get attached, because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to let go or that I would be heartbroken if I let go. Thankfully, one after the other found foster homes. The incredible number of over 300 dogs began to shrink, and it became easier to look after the remaining ones. Easier and more fun. Plus, now faces started to look familiar. And even though I started to get closer to the dogs, I was still glad to see them go with somebody who would love them and would have so much more time to devote to them. I began to see that this is really what I wanted to do and I soaked up every ounce of information about how this operation was run.

Nobody thought it would take this long. I mean, honestly, wouldn’t you think a court case involving living beings would be sped up to resolve the issue and get proper care for the poor creatures? But no – the woman filed an appeal. And the dogs are the ones suffering in a legal limbo. In any case – fast forward to the end of 2005. All of a sudden I find myself in need of a part time job and ALDF finds themselves in need of a part time shift coordinator. Was that fate, or what? I am doing exactly what I needed to learn – supervising volunteers, making them feel welcome and needed, feed the dogs, care for the dogs and also talk to potential foster parents, show them around, inform them. Invaluable experience in light of looking towards the future.

It is nuts, but now at 42 I finally know what I want to do with the rest of my life. My life-chart is coming full circle. I can see it. People come into our lives for a reason, things happen to us for a reason. In order to work with the animals I had to move to America, I had to befriend Amy and I had to rediscover my love for animals, just as she did, when she was sidelined with her injury. Life’s journey can be quite amazing. I want to work with animals. I want my own sanctuary – but if somehow that should not come to pass, I will work at one. I know I won’t get rich doing that, but I will - if that makes sense. My heart and soul will be rich beyond measure. How good it feels to have somebody wagging their whole body just because they see you approaching. How good it feels to see a dog that used to cower in a corner come out of his shell and trust you enough to finally come and let you touch him. Those experiences and emotions are indescribable. Yes, there is heartache – as there is now, with only a few dogs remaining. A few, that you know the names of, know their every little weirdness. Saying goodbye to one after the other – it is tough. Even though we know they’re going to a better place, it is bittersweet. It is a little like sending your kids off to college. You want them to become independent, but on the other hand it is hard to see that they can exist without you.

My friend and colleague Cathy Casper wrote a couple of little “exposes” on two events that touched us both deeply and I will cite little excerpts here. The first event was the tragic end of the Min Pin “Crazy Ruby”. I actually remember Ruby from the day all the 300 dogs came to us. She was one of the first ones into a crate, because she was labeled “biter” and nobody could really touch her. There was a big red sign on her crate and only the shift coordinators were supposed to care for her. I felt sorry for the poor thing that was cowering in the back of her crate and was never afraid to open the door and clean out her crate or give her fresh water. She would observe me anxiously, but she was just as afraid of me as I may have been of her. I felt by showing her unconditional love and showing that nobody will hurt her anymore she would finally come around. Sadly, Ruby was never able to overcome her fears and mistrust. Even when she moved into a bigger run with a friend, she would always mistrust those big, two legged-dogs. The saddest part of this story is that a very good soul had finally decided to take Ruby into her home and give her as much space and time as she needed to at least get her out of the stressful shelter environment. Right then, however, fate struck another blow to her and her cancer that had been treated for a while exploded. Ruby Min Pin passed away. Here is what Cathy wrote:

“Ruby Min Pin died yesterday quietly!

Ruby Min Pin had the best months of her life at the end. Ruby had been rescued in April from horrible living conditions at a puppy mill. Alas, we did not rescue her soon enough as she did not live a year after her rescue. However, it was the best 9 months of her life.

Ruby Min Pin was found in a wooden crate with a lid on it. She was living in her own filth. She had been bitten by a snake and the wound had become infected. She had not been treated. Ruby Min Pin was rescued that day, April 13, 2005. Her face was in horrible condition. Skin grafts had to be done to repair her face.  She did not trust a human soul. She bit anyone who tried to touch her. Finally, she healed well enough to be placed in a 10x10 kennel with her sister, Tannis. It was the best life that she had known for years.

In the fall, Ruby Min Pin was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her ear canal. It was the ear on the side of her head where she had been snake bitten. She underwent chemotherapy. A kind soul offered a warm, safe, cuddly, quiet place for Ruby to live out the rest of her life. Today, January 20, 2006, Ruby took a turn for the worse and had to be transported from Dunn, NC to Cary, NC to the kind veterinarian who was treating Ruby. She will probably not live the weekend.

The next female dog who comes to live in my home, even if it is years from now, will be named Ruby. The next male dog who comes to live in my home will be named Reuben. Although I was never able to hold Ruby in a loving way, and she never really trusted me, and she spent most of her time pacing, I loved Ruby Min Pin, lovingly called Crazy Ruby. After Ruby's history, she had earned the right to be crazy. She is a poster child for puppy mills and the horror that happens to the dogs who are unfortunate enough to live there. She was underfed and over bred. But, that changed when she came to us. It just wasn't soon enough.

Ruby Min Pin will be in heaven where serpents of any form can no longer harm her. She can sleep on a cloud and will always have the best dog food. I hope to one day see Ruby Min Pin again. I have been honored to have known her.”

The second event is the “Mass Exodus” of 12 dogs on a cross country trip in a minivan from NC to Phoenix AZ for some and Glendale, CA for the rest. It was such a huge enterprise that I wished I could be part of it, but on the other hand it seemed like a horror to have to do this. In any event, it wasn’t easy for those of us who stayed behind. Most of these dogs were labeled “hard to place” either because they had issues with certain people or issues with other dogs. I felt privileged to be one of the people that our “Alpha” boxer Maximus would let in his kennel and plant wet kisses on. Sometimes it was hard to believe it was the same dog, when he charged the fence as somebody walked by he wasn’t quite as equally fond of. The same was true for Vic He was the sweetest dog – with people! But show him another dog and he would turn into a flesh eating monster. What happened to these dogs in their life before they were rescued? Again, I want to cite Cathy, who summed up her experience so beautifully and who speaks from my heart, as well:
“For the love of Vic and Max
When I began volunteering at the HOH, I knew nothing about Boxers. Now, I feel I know everything. A lot of my knowledge comes from Vic and Max, both of whom I have provided care since June, 2005. I remember both of them from the early days. Vic was labeled dog aggressive from the beginning for good reason. Max’s label of human aggressive came later. None the less, they were our resident bad guys.

A lot of energy was put into maintaining Vic and Max. Protocols for their exercise were established because they were so challenging to handle. Muzzles, gloves, specific leashes were utilized. Katy and I developed these protocols and strictly implemented them on our watch... It isn’t what we wanted. It is what became necessary.

Today, February 17, 2006, Vic and Max will began their journey to sanctuary. They will live out their lives in a place that will accommodate them. It is my loss, but their gain. I will miss them as though they were my children going off to college. I know this is best for them, but there is a chasm left in my heart. I have cared for these dogs since June of 2005 and they have become a part of my pack. I send them off with a hug and a kiss and a part of my heart. I do not now, nor ever have felt that their aggressive tendencies were their own doing. I felt it was a breeding warp, which raises its ugly head in puppy mills. Barbara Woodley, you are responsible.

This is something no person, place or entity can take away from me. There are the loving kisses given to me every day I have spent at the HOH, from Vic and Max. Those mean old Boxers who were notorious for eating others up if you got in their way, gave me nothing but affection. Both would kiss my mouth through their kennels. Both would play with me when I went inside their kennels, or play with me whenever they were exercised outside their kennels. They are leaving us for a better life and my heart is sad and heavy for that, but, like a mother sending their child to college for the first time, I am jubilant and heartbroken at the same time.

I will never see them again. Both dogs took a huge chunk of my heart and my life for the past six months. I will never forget them. I hope to see them again on our journey to another life experience. I love Max and Vic. I am a better person for having known them. I hope I have been, along with others, a positive influence in their otherwise pitiful lives. The future is theirs. Today, I would put my life and the lives of my children in their paws. I would be safe. I never feared being alone at the HOH as long as they were there. I don’t know if I will have that feeling of confidence there again. My hat goes off to them. Go forward, noble dogs. Live a great life. Never forget those who saved you from your miserable life.

They are going to Hollywood. They are going to be big stars. And, we all knew them at the genesis of their true lives.

Go forward, you two princes of this rescue. You deserve it. “

So as this experience draws to a close, what do I take away from it?

That time heals all wounds
-..... well, at least the physical ones. It is amazing what a little good food and care can do. The transformation in those poor little creatures was amazing. The emotional scarring is another thing. Those sit deeper. Some of the dogs responded to a little kindness immediately, others took longer to start to trust us. Some, even though they started to trust us, let us pet them and hold them would still crouch down when you approached or reached out to touch them. It would break my heart every time. And then again there were a few that wanted to be loved, but just couldn't jump over their own shadow and would never let us approach them. This made it very hard to love them but we did nevertheless, in hopes we could change their mind. That abused animals react in quite the same manner as abused humans do -...... We tend to think that after escaping hell, the rescued would embrace their new life and their rescuers. But some still "love" their abusers. Everyday THAT woman exercised her visitation rights we watched in utter horrified amazement that some of the dogs, particularly those that would not be approachable by us, came running to her, wagging their tails. Complicated psychological issues those are.

That you can become quite desensitized to doggie pee and poop.
-.....In the beginning it was quite horrific as we had to crate dogs at night. They didn't know not to poop in their crates and were an utter mess in the morning, as were the crates. We had paper suits to wear over our clothes, exam gloves for the hands. Some of us even wore masks over their noses and mouths, because, frankly it just made you gag. I gave up on the paper suit when the NC summer started - it was just too hot! Next the gloves came off - the hands were sweating in them and "pruning". That is such an "icky" feeling, what are soap and water for anyway! Now, after a year, very little makes me gag! Hands are washed pretty much only if you actually touch "the matter" or right before eating.

That scooping poop can be therapeutic.
-.... well ... I knew that already from volunteering at Best Friends. And, of course, it's not just the actual scooping, but also the change you see in the animals. The unconditional love you receive back. I am still utterly amazed how some of those animals can even begin to trust into a human being again. The few times I couldn't make it to the shelter I felt empty and really missed my weekly dose of wet nosed kisses.

That I hate people ... well ... not really ....
-...... you know this already, I've had a blog on it a while back. But really, when I think about it. I don't even hate THAT woman. I hate what she did to the dogs, I hated when she came in and picked them up by one leg, I hated when she came in and shoved them back into their kennel when they came running to her, wagging their tails, I hate that she is not the only person out there like this. I even had to turn away, go to a different part of the building so as to not lose my temper and jeopardize the case. All of you who know me that it take a lot for me to lose my temper - she didn't have to do much. Just a little shove of the hand did it for me. Oh how badly I wanted to make some sarcastic remarks when she accused us of not treating "her" dogs right, of abusing them. Saying that they had air conditioned runs at her property but we let them suffer in the heat without water. I had to bite my tongue, believe you me! But confusingly enough, I can't hate her. I have thought about this a lot and wondered what is wrong with me because all I feel about her is indifference. I guess it is because hate is too strong an emotion for me. Not that I'm not emotionally involved in this case, obviously I am. But I do not want to be emotionally involved with THAT woman. Does that make sense? She just doesn't deserve it. It doesn't matter to me what happens to her, other than her punishment for this and that I don't want her to be able to have any animals ever again. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe, but after all this (and I am told I haven't even seen the worst video footage yet) - there is nothing left in me towards her but emptiness.  On the other hand, there is this little part of me that almost feels sorry for her, because seeing as how erratic she behaved I can't but conclude that she is mentally ill. Either that or she would have to be really conniving and evil, which I don't think she is smart enough for. But even mental illness, to me, is no excuse for what she did. Still - astonishingly..... no hate felt here! Just emptiness when I think about her.

That I can do this
-..... whether I'll have my own place or not, I can do this. My own place - even with little or no money it is possible to run an operation like this and give excellent animal care. Anytime I go to Best Friends it is a little daunting to me, because they run such an excellent operation. I think it is the perfectionist in me. I want everything perfect immediately. But I can have a small facility, and I don't have to be that perfect at first. I can start running it and realize myself how it works best for me and then make it perfect. If my own place is not meant for me, I'm still doing this. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I have done some networking by working for ALDF, it is an excellent bullet point on my resume. Quite sadly, actually, after all I have done so far, it is almost the only one that matters anymore for my future. I know I won't get rich doing it, but it will enrich my soul. As long as it pays enough for me to pay my bills (and maybe a few extras) so that I don't have to work a second job for the rest of my life, it will be like heaven. I know burnout is high in this field, but I think I'll be able to work through it. There are so many workshops I want to attend, so much more I want to learn about animals and their care.

That you can name them, get attached to them and still be able to let go.
-....... In the beginning I didn't want to know any names. I was afraid I would want to "take them all home" if I got too close, too attached. And it was easy not to - there were soooooo many of them. Who could remember them all? But bonding became inevitable. Especially towards the end, as there were less and less animals to take care of. We got to know them all intimately, all the little quirks, their likes and dislikes. Still, amazingly there is only one dog I have wanted to take home, and only now - Ginger. But as of yet, I can't. Yes, it does hurt, when they leave. It is a bittersweet sensation, like when children go off to college. You want them to get out, you're even glad they are -but they leave a terrible void. If only I could keep getting updates from them, to see how they are doing now. Some of them we do, and it's so wonderful to hear.

I cried when Max and Vic left, I'm quite sure I'll cry when I go home for the last time and leave Ginger behind. The last ones I mentioned from after the move are obviously the ones I got most attached to. None as much as Ginger recently. If I had a house I would make it work with the cats. But the one-bedroom apt is just not conducive. Will I ever find out how all my "kids" are doing? I sure hope so, but I can't be sure. It saddens me deeply. But at the same time I am glad because I know I have been part of something important, something very beautiful. All these dogs have a new lease on life. They are now doing better than they have ever done in their life and it will be paradise for them once they find their own family. That's why I am happy. I know they are going to good places and I can hope that maybe some of them will remember me in a little tiny part in their heart.

Random kids I remember: Walter,   of course, the very skinny, very cuddly Boston. All he ever wanted to do was snuggle in your lap and sleep. (I've seen him a few times since then - he's not skinny anymore, but still a character). During the mass-exodus I doggie-sat Walter and his buddy Zeke at the shelter while his foster Mom made the trip. While I couldn’t remember Zeke from the beginning we had a wonderful for the few days I had them back. There were the three Boxer pups, maybe 6 months old. They usually had the run of the whole place. Just because they were pretty big and needed to get some of that energy out. I remember thinking how beautiful they looked, how well built and how gorgeous to see the coordination of their muscles when they darted along. I'd never really been exposed to Boston Terriers. Even didn't like dogs with the "punched-in noses". But the woman's favorites seem to have been Bostons. And I've grown somewhat fond of them. Their little "Geiger-counter" noises when they rummage around, too funny! There was the Boston Terrier Buster. A kind soul bought him his own doggie pillow and we put his name on it and made sure it would be returned to him after the wash.
The pillow had a “sheepskin” side and a blue side. Buster’s favorite was the blue side, which had to face up in his crate! There was the Boston Terrier Tess, who had such severe separation anxiety that while in her foster home, she moved her crate (while being in it) through the whole room. She had to be returned to the shelter and now has a home where somebody is home all day and can work with her. There was the Boston Terrier Charlie, which for a short period of time had lost his identity. The ID tag had come off and nobody was quite sure who the little bugger was. By the process of elimination it was figured out and ironically he was the first dog ever to come off the property – V1. Henceforth his aka became “Mr. X”. There was the day the two mamas came in with their newborn litters. One little, very friendly mama, Petunia, with one single pup - Pearl. And the other, skittish and fearful one, Ruby with her brood.

The babies were so little, they could fit in the palm of my hand. They still had their eyes closed. But oh my, how quickly they grew. Soon you couldn't even get in their pen, because you literally would have puppies hanging from your pants legs and shoe ties. Like a bunch of piranhas, they would gauge your hand and arms to the bone, if you lowered them to their level. Energetic little buggers! There was "Old Man" the blind yorkie and his buddy, who were inseparable. There was peanut the min pin, and the other little min pin whose marking looked like a Mickey mouse on her back (gotta find that picture). There were Chyna and Dollie, the two red min pins who were as wide as they were tall. There was Willie the Dachshund who loved, I mean lovvvvvved the squeaky toys. There were, of course, the pugs, with their funny noises - Giggles, who knew how to work it so she would be picked up most and Ted (for Ted Kennedy, an all grey pug, who looked just like his namesake). There was the huge Boston, Wild Child, who was aptly named. Then came the move to the warehouse and the whole big lot of them and they do blur together with a few exceptions. Crazy min-pin Ruby, who was labeled a biter from the beginning. She just cowered in the back of her crate and I never had any problems cleaning her up or feeding her. Later Ruby was partnered with Tannis, who was also shy, but not a fear biter. Both dogs improved from the company, Tannis more so than Ruby and when she passed away, Tannis was truly sad and obviously missed her mate. There was scratchy-doo, Sonya, a Jack Russell with a terrible skin condition. She was one of the first ones into a crate that day. She also wasn't very friendly at first - nobody blamed her. She just wanted to be left alone. As I looked at her snoozing in her crate all I could say to her was "You're ok now, nobody is ever going to hurt you again!” Later, Sonya lived with Lita (Maggie), who was returned by her family, because she couldn’t get along with the kids. My wrestling fan friends will recognize the name sake. Of course, we had to include her! Sonya actually seemed to benefit from having a kennel-mate and for the first time I was able to approach her, touch her and leave her, without being chased out of the kennel! There was a Malamute - a gorgeous dog,

friendly as can be. Picture a Husky, but much bigger, like a wolf almost, just beautiful. There was Tiny the Boxer. The granddaddy of them all. We always needed two people to enter his kennel. Not because he was aggressive, but because he wanted out and wanted to run and he was so strong there was nothing holding him back if he pushed past you. There was Mudflap, the brown and white boxer with the unusual markings. There were Barbie and Susie the two Boxers whose run was one of those you couldn't help but gagging, always, without fail, the worst of all. There was another Boxer, Wendy, who was returned because she would always bolt out of the house and was also aggressive towards the cat. She was very, very shy but it didn’t take long and she found a new home with another Boxer and is coming out of her shell. There was the Jack Russell puppy Jackson. He was one of the puppies born in our care (mom was already pregnant when we got her). He was high-energy, typical for his breed and we were glad when he found a home where he can run around outside all day and get all that energy out! There was the older Boston Terrier Bruce was going blind from cataracts. We had him from the beginning, with the first batch of 30. A kind soul offered to pay for his surgery, and even though he managed and adjusted to losing his vision, he is much better off now and a happy camper with a newfound outlook on life. There was the little tiny min-pin Pete. He had lost all of his teeth and was so nervous we couldn’t put any weight on him. In the winter time we had to bundle him up because he didn’t have enough body fat to keep him warm. There was Kate the English Bulldog, who wanted to be a lapdog and adopted a kiddiepool as her bed. There was Sugar, the Boston Terrier/Chihuahua Mix, was one of those who would bark and bark and bark and come nipping at your heels if you turned your back, but still "loved" her abuser. There was Sweetpea who adopted one of the red chairs as her primary sitting spot. Then as the majority had left, we moved to the smaller room. Right before that there was the incident when Perry, the min-pin started howling at...... who knows at what?! Point is – the whole room joined in - it was very animalistic. I felt transported back to the time we went to Wolfhaven and tried to animate the pack to join into our howl! This time I joined the HOH-Pack with my best howl! Oh yes, Perry, the min pin who had to have so many teeth pulled that he looked like he had a permanent grin. After the move there was the Boxer Maximus, our Alpha male, who picked "his" people very carefully. I was one of the lucky ones he just couldn't give enough slobbery kisses to. But beware if he didn't like you - he was ready to kill! I was never afraid in the building alone at night, because I knew I could just go into Max's Kennel and he would protect me. There was the Boxer Vic, the second in command, who was friendly enough with people. But boy, don't show him another dog or his evil twin would come out. There was Christopher the beautiful Jack Russell who wanted so much to be loved but would run away every time I tried to touch him. There was the Jack Russell Steve(-o)
who had to be in a run with a roof, because he knew how to climb. Once he got restricted in that way he would stick his nose out the fence and sit like that for hours, very pathetically pleading to get out. There was the Boston Terrier Liza, who like Sugar tried to convince us that she was quite evil, but whose game of "I have the kong and you can't have it" became more and more intricate. There was the Boston Terrier Thelma, who I had the pleasure of flying to Detroit, together with Petunia. In her run she never let me touch her, but in the airport she hung n to us catlike, with her claws, terrified. There was the Boston Terrier Johnny who loved his toys and who lived in his alien pod. Anything you have lost in this world..... just check his pod, I'm sure it is in there. There was the Boxer Smarty, our "Junkyard" dog, who always slept on top of his crate instead of in it.

Problem Child, because he wouldn't gain any weight, due to an untreated irritable bowel syndrome. With a strict diet and medication that made him pee on end he finally put on two pounds and now has found a home. I'm told he has not once peed in the house yet! There was the Boston Terrier "Bubba", our funny little old man. He preferred his food off the floor. Also he was quite the escape artist, every time we turned around he would have bent up the fence and slipped out. Just recently I have seen this little "rotund" pup trying to climb the fence that we had enforced with x-pen pieces. There were the min-pins Rodney and Lucas, little "round" Lucas, who didn't know to eat anywhere but in his crate (where we HAD to feed him because he would fight with Rodney over it). There was the boxer Ethyl with the under bite, who loved to wrestle. There was our beautiful Rottie "Rock" who was later renamed. He just joined us after Max had left, because I am told he was the most vicious beast on the property the day he was seized, only to be overcome with a tranquilizer dart.
He was aptly renamed "Sirius (Black)" and now thinks he is a lapdog. The other dog named influenced by Harry Potter was Clyde. He was boarded at a doggie day care so I don’t have any funny stories to tell. He was one of the ones that took the legendary road trip to Phoenix, so I met him right before he left. He was renamed Dobby
– and I think you will understand why once you look at this picture. At the very end here I was re-introduced to Cliff, a Jack Russell terrier I couldn’t remember. He was also boarded at the doggie day care and not at the shelter. I had the honor of delivering him to his new family in Arizona the other day. He was a very sweet little boy the whole way and to see the joy in those people’s eyes made the whole tiring trip worthwhile. Honestly, I didn’t think I would remember that many. I am amazed! And as I sit here trying to get this all on paper, looking at pictures, the “people” just keep coming back to me! Here are some honorable mentions, who I remember, but don’t remember any particular incidences about: min pin Gabe, Boston Terriers Tinkerbell, Gidget, Wink and Teddy, min pin Joey, Dachshund Gracie and Welsh Corgy Jimmy. And last but not least, there is the Chow-Mix Ginger. "my" girl. Quite shy in the beginning, she is still very submissive, but now follows me with her eyes wherever I go. Her little tail starts wagging every time I move. She loves to hang out with me on the sofa in the break room. Did I mention she caught one of the rats the other day? If she could only get along with other dogs and with cats.